


Manscaping

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-28
Updated: 2008-04-28
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: For thefeedmykink48-hour shaving/waxing challenge.  And now you know all you need to know.





	Manscaping

**Author's Note:**

> It's lighthearted! It's PG! It's Spuffy.

“I don’t see the point.” Buffy frowned with distaste at the handcuffs dangling from Spike’s fingers.

“It’s about trust, see, and letting go. Giving up control. It’s a rush, Slayer. Try it, you might like it.”

“No. Freaking. Way.” She snatched the cuffs from his hand. “I barely trust you when I have both hands free to beat you.”

He shrugged. “Then chain _me_ up.”

“Why?”

He lowered his chin and dropped his lashes. “So you can have your wicked way with me,” he purred in that voice of his that was like pure liquid sex poured over chocolate.

Buffy groaned. That voice was unfair! And he knew it!

“Come on, love,” he said, and stretched his arms over his head, wrists crossed. “Lock me up and you can do whatever you want to me.”

 _So not playing this game,_ Buffy told herself, but somehow the words that came out of her mouth where, “What if what I want is something you don’t?”

Bad mouth!

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s sort of the point, isn’t it?”

She slipped back over him. Bad legs! No straddling the yummy vampire. She pressed the metal cuff to his wrist and he arched up against her, smiling. Stupid, smug vampire. Smug and stupid and sexy… she slipped one cuff around his wrist and squeezed it as tight as it could go.

His brow wrinkled a little in concern at that.

Buffy looked for something to cuff him to. On the positive side, everything not slayer-and-vampire proof had pretty much been destroyed already. “Over there,” she said, and crawled off of him. “There’s some rebar sticking out of the wall.”

Spike craned his head to see where she was pointing and grimaced. “Plain rock floor over there, love.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Like here’s any better.”

He got up, naked and all dangly, and dragged the rug over to the loop of metal. Then he snatched the pillows and blankets from the bed. All the while, the handcuffs hung from his wrist like a hoop earring.

It was a little weird, to be quietly working together on something so mundane as moving pillows, making a comfortable nest by the wall. But then, they could work together, sometimes. She always forgot.

At last she had her smug vampire chained to the wall. He shifted his shoulders, getting comfortable, and watched her expectantly.

She sat back on her heels, feeling something oddly akin to stage fright.

“C’mon, kitten. Has to be something you want to do, now you have me at your mercy at last.” He waggled his tongue at her.

“Please. I’ve had you at my mercy for months.”

He shook his head. “Over a year, at least.”

Buffy frowned and ran her hand up his side, feeling the gentle bumps of his ribs. She paused just below his armpit, wanting to continue up his arm – the slight twist gave his tricep beautiful definition – but there was that icky HAIR in the way. Suddenly she had an idea. She got up and looked around the disheveled room for her overnight bag – the one she always packed and never actually used. Stupid, insatiable vampire.

“Buffy? Love? What are you…?”

She triumphantly pulled her shaving kit out of the bag. Spike’s chin was pressed to his sternum so he could see, and he was frowning. “So not an attractive pose for you,” Buffy admonished and resumed her seat across his thighs. She unzipped the little teal bag and took out her razor, setting it on his stomach.

“Oh hell no!” He said.

“Come on,” Buffy set the after-shaving lotion next to the razor and got out the foamy soap – yay foamy soap! “Don’t be a baby.”

He twisted frantically, trying to get his legs out from under her. “The initiative may have taken my fangs but I’m still a man, damn it! Men are hairy.”

“You said I could do anything I want.”

Spike let his head fall back and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what everybody _says_ but what they mean is ‘strap me down and shag me silly.’”

“Well, forgive me for taking a vampire at his word. But if a little shave is too adventurous for you…” Buffy sighed dramatically and made to get up. “I guess we can’t play these kinds of games, really.”

“Hey! I didn’t say that!”

She smiled and shook her can of Barbizol.

Spike watched her nervously while she squirted foam at his armpits and then gingerly worked it in with her fingertips.

“S’not like I’m a great hairy beast,” he complained. “You DID see Angelus naked, didn’t you?”

“Breaking the no-exes-in-conversation rule,” Buffy shook a foam-coated finger at him. “I could tickle you.”

He looked so worried then she had to drum her fingers ever so slightly on his abdomen, which tensed and shook as he tried, as usual, to pretend he wasn’t ticklish. Buffy picked up her razor.

He shied away. “That’s a girl razor!”

“Sharpened metal doesn’t have gender,” Buffy admonished. She frowned at her Gillete Sensor for Women. “Besides, it’s not pink!”

“There’s a normal, BOY razor in my dresser.”

Buffy sighed, but got up and went to his “dresser” – which she could only call that in her mind with quotes around it because it was a box that happened to have one drawer in it. This she opened and found the scariest looking razor she’d ever seen. A full quarter-inch of exposed razor blade, screwed into a clunky metal handle. She turned and waved it at him. “You shave with this? Without a mirror?”

“It’s a normal razor.”

“For when? 1915?” Buffy turned it over in her hand. “Thank god you’re undead. This could kill you.”

“Humor my fragile masculinity.”

She sat down again, still staring at the razor. There was no way it wasn’t going to slice right through him. She set it gently to the foam and brushed through it. The long, tawny hairs of his armpit simply bent underneath it. She gritted her teeth and scraped closer.

Three strokes and she had a bit of the hang of it, though she still thought the Sensor would have done a better job – three flexible blades, hello! This had one blade. SO not flexible.

She got caught up in her task, and for a while there was no sound but the gentle scrape of the razor and the soft sound of wiping the foam off with a corner of her lucky sunflower hand towel.

Spike watched her, no longer struggling, somewhat mesmerized by the sight of her quiet concentration.

When she finished, she rubbed lotion on her hands and then ran them up his sides, uninterrupted from ribs to elbows, a smooth, soft expanse of skin. She smiled. “Feels good.”

“Feels wonderful for me too, love,” Spike said. “Love your hands on me.”

She lotioned up his arms and chest and stomach, even though, technically, they didn’t need it, but Spike had such beautiful skin, and it was rare that she could indulge herself. Somehow, him being tied down made it okay.

She paused, her hands together on his stomach. He was getting aroused again – big surprise. She tapped the tip of his penis with one finger and it twitched eagerly. She reached for the foam.

“What? No. I mean it this time, pet. NO!”

“No, you don’t,” Buffy chided and squirted a little dollup under his belly-button. With one stroke of the razor she took off the tiny cluster of hairs that marched in a line from below his navel to his groin.

Spike sighed in relief, head falling back again. Buffy ran her fingers over his abdomen, feeling for more freaky man-hair.

She looked at his groin. Carpet did NOT match the drapes, she thought, and almost snickered at herself – such a Spike thing to think. She put a little more foam on her fingertips. He looked up at her, confused. She ran her fingers along the crease of his thighs, and all around the bushy hair of his groin.

“’M not a porn star,” Spike said. “Like my crotch like nature intended.”

“Spike, you’re dead. Nothing is as nature intended.” She flicked the razor playfully, here and there, little swipes at the edge of the thatch. She scooted down his legs and nudged them apart.

With a heavy sigh, he let her.

Buffy ran a finger along the edge of her design – just a little neatening of the sides and a dip on top made a cute little furry heart. She smiled at her work, wiped up the leftover shaving cream and rubbed it over his (rapidly stiffening) erection.

“My first time manscaping,” Buffy said. “Not bad. I like it.”

Spike groaned deep in his throat. “Great,” he said. “Now I have to keep it like this.”


End file.
